by M. C. Roth
He groaned as the hand lifted off his cock and reached for the knob. The water spluttered to a stop a moment later.
“Lead the way,” said Ian as he moved.
Trent had never moved faster in his life. Not bothering to dry off, he grabbed Ian’s hand and dragged him from the bathroom, careful not to slip on the linoleum. He rushed from the room and around the corner to the bedroom. It was a quick trip, of only a few short steps, but it seemed much too long.
The bedroom was just large enough to fit his queen bed, a single nightstand and a tall dresser that held most of his clothes. The bed was topped with a plethora of pillows and a fluffy duvet that only covered the far half of the sheets. Over the floor was an old carpet that had gone soft and thin from the abundance of foot traffic in its long life.
Turning to face Ian, Trent settled on the edge of the bed. Water soaked into his sheets as it dribbled down from his hair. He was sure that he looked like a wanton mess, completely drenched and hard, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not with Ian looking at him like he was.
Ian leaned down and Trent arched and tilted his head back to meet Ian halfway. It was sweet and light, a contrast to the heavy hands that had wrapped around him in the shower. The barest hint of moisture was left on his lips and it was enough to slick the way.
Ian swept a hot tongue along the seam of his mouth, begging for entry. Trent granted access with a deep groan. Ian swirled it into his mouth, tracing every inch with that smoky sweetness he thought was Ian’s cologne. There was also the taste of distant cigarettes that had lost their bitterness and a natural flavor that was ripe like a fresh apple sliding across his mouth. Ian pushed in deep, forcing Trent to submit, even though he gave in willingly. His cock twitched again, lonely and forgotten against his belly.
Trent fluttered his eyelids open as Ian pulled back. Christ, the man was an amazing kisser. Ian’s lips looked bruised already and tainted red where the split had opened just the barest hint. The sliver of a pink tongue crept out and licked the bead of moisture along his lower lip. His eyes were wide and so dark that there was almost no blue left. Ian groaned once before he leaned back in for more.
Their lips met, hard enough to bruise, and a wave of heat curled in Trent’s mouth at the point of contact. He could see himself becoming addicted to this—the perfect touch, slick and domineering, and the perfect taste.
Trent lifted his hands to thread into the other man’s hair. It was an automatic move, although he was usually the one pressing down from above. He met slick skin instead of the locks that his mind had been expecting. He jolted, sliding his fingers along the flesh, but unsure of what to do. The skin was soft, surprisingly so, with no scratch of stubble against his fingertips. There was no anchor to hold on to, to keep himself from becoming lost in the sensations. He could only feel and will himself not to become overwhelmed.
He dropped his hands back to his own naked thighs to hold the soft spot just above his knees. Ian had moved in between them and was pushing him down and back into the mattress. His stomach muscles screamed from the strain, but Trent wasn’t willing to be the one to break contact to flop back on the bed.
“Put your hands around my neck,” said Ian as he pulled back to nibble on Trent’s lower lip. He licked along the seam before he sealed their lips together again and pushed back inside. His hands were braced on either side of Trent and holding his bulk just out of reach.
Trent shot his hands up to the man’s neck and grasped his own wrist around the sturdy column. It was exactly what he’d needed. He pulled Ian down to him, matching every thrust of his tongue and pushing their chests together. Naked skin met with a flash of heat and tingle of sensation.
Ian moved his warm hands from their place against the sheets to slide along his legs. The man was strong enough to hold them both partially aloft with no effort at all, even as Trent tugged hard at his neck. Those callused palms started just above Trent’s knees, before twisting underneath him and sliding back to his ass. He grasped the cheeks softly, spreading them apart to expose Trent’s sensitive hole. The comforter shifted and brushed along his seam, making him moan at the tickling sensation.
The groan seemed to snap something in Ian, who went suddenly still against his lips. He pulled back, licking the string of spit that still connected them, his eyes dark and wanting.
“Scooch up along the bed,” said Ian in that low voice Trent had only heard once before.
Trent relaxed his hold and hurried back, scrambling to follow the order. He fell against the comforter, which soaked the last of the water from his skin. Ian was flushed red across the bridge of his nose and all the way down his chest to his curved cock that was now leaking steadily. Trent’s dick throbbed, needing those hands back on him, but he was terrified that a simple touch would make him come. He’d never been more turned on in his life.
“Eager?” Ian smirked, already knowing the answer. “Do you have any stuff?” His hand went to his cock and stroked a few times, smearing pre-cum across the mushroom head and slicking the way for his palm.
“In the side table,” said Trent. His legs trembled as it finally sank in. He was going to have sex with this stranger in a way that he’d never had sex before—the first man to top him, and he only knew his name. His legs shook harder, no longer a chilled shiver but getting closer to outright panic.
“You okay?” Ian paused on his way to the drawer, eyeing Trent’s trembling with concern. “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re not comfortable. I’ll stop if you need me to.”
“No, I want you,” said Trent, needing this man more than ever. “Just go slow. It’s been a while.” A partial lie. He’d never been penetrated, not even with toys. He’d never found much appeal to the feeling of plastic in or around his ass. It was too cold, too impersonal and never managed to replicate the feeling he really desired. Even his own fingers had lost their appeal after a few tries. He was too focused on the pressure against his fingertips and how he squeezed around them, to notice the sensation of being penetrated. And he’d never been able to reach his prostate, even when he was buried knuckle-deep.
The drawer rattled as Ian swept through it, searching for the lube Trent kept there and the few foil condom packets crinkled together. Trent hoped that they weren’t expired. He usually went out and stocked up if he was in the mood, and that hadn’t happened for a few months.
“Disappointing,” said Ian as he shook his head. His hand swept through the drawer again, adding to the already disordered clutter. “You can usually find some pretty cool stuff in a bedside drawer—vibrators, toys or at least some porn mags.” He pulled out a few items and tossed them to Trent. “Condoms, lube and earphones. Seriously disappointing, Trent. Where’s the kinky shit?” His smirk widened as he crawled to Trent. He grabbed the lube on the way, glancing at the bottle as he moved closer.
“This stuff isn’t really great for what I want to do,” said Ian as he turned the label over to inspect it.
“What do you mean? Lube is lube.” Trent grabbed the bottle from his hand, before looking at the label. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It works great.” For jerking off at least. He’d bought the stuff on sale a few months before when he was just looking for something to ease the way of his hand.
“Maybe for jerking off.” Ian moved in closer as if he had read Trent’s mind. He dragged a hand up the inside of Trent’s thigh, chuckling as Trent twitched and stifled laughter. “You need long-lasting stuff for good sex. This stuff will dry out too quick.”
“Oh,” Trent trailed off as lips pressed against his. His reply was left unsaid. He’d never brought anyone back to his place, as he preferred to go to a partner’s. They always had the right kind of lube, apparently, and Trent would bring his own condoms. It made them feel safer with him, and he didn’t have to worry about them tracking him down for a second date. Ian was the first man, other than himself, to ever see inside that drawer at all or touch the bottle. The condoms were there, simply because there wa
s no space left in the bathroom drawer to store them.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go slow and keep you wet.”
Trent groaned and surged against Ian’s sweet lips. The man pushed him back until he was fully pressed against the comforter. A larger body covered his with a damp slide of sweat and heat. One hand threaded through his hair, but the second was absent.
Trent tried to track it, but he was overwhelmed by heat and pressure. Ian pressed his hips between his splayed thighs and lined up their cocks. The first touch of smooth, hot skin against his own had him letting out a startled cry. It was so good, and so much better than grinding down from above, where he would set the pace and pressure.
The heat disappeared as Ian lowered his lips to Trent’s neck and latched on to his collar bone with sharp teeth. Trent thrust his hips up until his cock was rubbing against the smooth skin of a toned belly. The skin was flat and hard, but there were no mounds of defined muscles that could be found in a body builder. If Trent rutted hard enough, he could feel the dips and peaks of the hidden six pack beneath the thin layer over the top.
Trent didn’t even realize that his legs were being pushed wider until he was completely exposed. His mind was set on a simple goal, and between nipping teeth and the press of his cock, he couldn’t focus on anything else.
Ian bit at his nipple before his teeth snagged at the edge of his piercing. He arched into the sensation as he gripped Ian’s head and pulled him closer. He slid his fingertips over the smooth surface of his skull and the even skin where he knew the tattoo lay.
The teeth latched on harder, fed by his enthusiastic encouragement. At the same time, a slick finger swept over his exposed hole.
Trent jumped at the sudden and unexpected assault. He hadn’t even heard the tell-tale click of the lubricant lid when Ian had opened it. His legs pressed on either side of Ian as Trent tried to close them, feeling suddenly embarrassed and exposed.
“Shhh, it’s okay, T. I’ll go slow.” Ian’s lips snagged against the piercing as he spoke. “I’m getting the appeal of the nipple piercing now. You’re so sensitive for me.”
Trent hummed in reply as he loosened his fingers where they’d dug into Ian’s neck. He pulled back to tongue over the metal bar, flicking the budded nipple back and forth.
“I fucked this girl once who had her nipples pierced,” said Ian as he moved to the other side of Trent’s chest. This nipple was unpierced, but peaked and hard already. “She wouldn’t let me touch them at all. It hurt her too much.”
“Feels good,” Trent slurred and forcibly pulled the man back to the piercing. “I like it when you bite it.” He groaned as Ian did just that.
The finger that had circled his pucker for the last minute suddenly pressed inside. The slide was smooth from the ample slick and Trent’s overall relaxed state. It was wholly and completely different from when he’d tried it on himself.
He could feel everything, from the light scratch of Ian’s nails to the ridges and bumps along the thick girth of his finger. The finger was hot, maybe even hotter than his body temperature, and it felt almost scalding inside him. It pressed in slowly until it gradually buried itself all the way in.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Ian mumbled against his chest with a groan. “I’m not sure if I’m gonna fit if you keep clenching like that.”
“Sorry,” said Trent automatically. He took a deep breath in the same way that he had told so many men beneath him to. His body relaxed and the strange feeling started to fade.
“Don’t apologize. It’s a good thing, really good. Nothing worse than fucking a loose slut.”
Trent tensed under the words, his body going tight again. The single finger inside suddenly felt too big for him. Slut. That wasn’t what he was at all.
“Relax, T, and take another deep breath for me.” Ian moved up and pressed his lips to Trent’s. He forgot the harsh words as the man started to move.
Ian curved his finger and pressed along his walls in a slick motion that made him burn. The slight drag along his rim was startling with how good it actually felt. The digit pulled out and returned a moment later, dripping with slick gel. It slid in so easily that the burn completely disappeared, leaving a vague pleasurable feeling of fullness behind.
“That’s better. You’re doing so well. You’re so tight for me, T.”
Ian dragged his teeth down Trent’s chest to nip at the soft expanse of skin just above his belly button. He wasn’t toned the way Ian was, but he had managed to stave off the paunch that affected so many men as they approached their mid-thirties. Next to Ian’s body, though, he looked skinny and soft.
A slick tongue slipped into his belly button as a second finger joined the first. It slid in slower, matching the leisurely licks on the sensitive divot of his belly. With a twist and a press, Ian slid up to his knuckles with two fingers.
“Now if I can just find it,” the man mumbled as he twisted his hand. Ian flexed his forearm and bunched his tanned shoulders with a seemingly single-minded focus.
For a moment Trent forgot what the man could’ve meant. A second later, heat fizzled at the base of his belly and he arched up with a cry.
“Found it. It’s deep, real deep, baby. Bet no one’s been able to reach it for you like this before.” The words brimmed with confidence as they were growled into his skin. Ian’s smile revealed his teeth at the sound of Trent’s cry.
“No, never.” Trent cried out again through his bitten lips. He gasped for air as the sensation came again when Ian’s slick fingers slid over his sensitive prostate. He’d taken men apart under him by doing the exact same thing, but he’d never felt it for himself. The rush was so sudden that he was instantly on the edge of coming.
“I’m gonna come.” Trent gripped the blanket hard in one hand and Ian’s neck with the other.
“No, you aren’t,” Ian chuckled as he tapped against that spot inside over and over.
Trent groaned as his cock twitched and jumped, but his release stayed just out of reach. He bucked his hips, but Ian had moved up to hover over him, so he only met air. He was so close, but Ian was right. There was something there that was blocking him from taking that last step. It was so good that it nearly hurt.
A third finger slid home with a slick twist. Ian pulled back just a bit, so he was too shallow to continue his steady assault. Trent let out a sigh of relief, which quickly turned to a wince. The three fingers were broad. Almost as broad as Ian’s cock. They stretched him farther than he’d even been stretched before. His body was opening, but it was resisting and refusing to relax under the pressure.
His breath hissed through his nose as he tried to let go. It stung like an itchy wound on his most vulnerable area. Even with all the lube in the world, it was still too big to be comfortable.
But Ian persisted. He spread his fingers and curved them against his walls, lighting up his nerves until he was relaxing again. The sting faded to an ache, then to an overwhelming pressure. Before he realized it, he was rocking back his hips onto the digits as he tried to press them deep to move against his prostate again.
“I’m ready. I want you now,” Trent found himself saying as his cock started to throb in time with his heartbeat.
The crinkle of foil was followed by the barely audible click of the bottle of lube. The fingers retreated as Ian moved up his body to hover over top. Ian brought his hands up to his thighs and pushed him wide open. Trent revisited his natural urge to try to snap his thighs shut, but just managed to resist.
Ian pressed his lips against his as a blunt slickness pressed between Trent’s cheeks. He flexed as he braced himself over Trent’s body and started to push.
Impossibly, Trent’s body yielded as if it was made for this. There was pressure at first as he clenched down, but Ian’s cock was unyielding. It pressed in, and in, until Trent could hardly think, let alone do anything but feel. Just before he thought it might break him, Ian settled his hips against Trent’s.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, T. E
ase up a bit for me,” said Ian as he leaned back to hover over him. His eyebrows were knitted together in concentration. “That’s it. You’re doing so good. Are you ready for me?” Ian grabbed the lube and dribbled another stream where they were connected.
Trent nodded then gasped as Ian pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in to the root. When he pressed back inside, Ian flexed his hips to bury himself as deep as he could go, then ground up as his cock jumped inside. The head of his cock slipped past Trent’s prostate as he pulled out for a second time. When he slid back inside with a quick thrust, he nailed the bundle of nerves head on.
Trent shouted as he was brought to the edge of pain, awash with toe-curling pleasure. His body clamped down, milking Ian as he tried to withdraw again.
“Fuck, T, ease up. Fuck.” A tinge of pain drifted through Ian’s voice as he withdrew.
“Sorry,” said Trent as he trembled from the absolute overload. His legs were shaking hard and he swore he felt tears at the corner of his eyes.
“It’s okay. You’re just so tight. I didn’t think you’d be that sensitive. Is this your first time or something?” Ian’s dark eyes, which were blown wide with lust, narrowed in concern.
Trent nodded and turned his head away from the man as his cheeks blazed.
Ian let out a wounded groan. “Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve made it so much better for you. Hell…” He trailed off, dragging a hand over his scalp as he rocked back on his heels. He eased his cock out of Trent, leaving an empty ache behind. “Roll over. It’ll be easier that way.”
Ian nudged his hip and Trent found himself rolling. He grabbed a pillow and pressed his face gratefully to it. It soaked up the tears that had managed to fall and muffled a small sob. His cock was still throbbing, so painful and neglected, but his mind was racing. Being called out like that in the middle of something so intimate… It was something horror stories were made of.